


The Languor of Late Afternoon

by foundCarcosa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleeping is not all Heracles does in bed. [Past Work]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Languor of Late Afternoon

A hand pushed through his bed-tousled hair, muscles drawing up tight as he stretched. Bleary green eyes blinked open and then squeezed shut while he yawned.

“Mmf…” Heracles groaned as he attempted to turn over and found an obstruction. This time, it was not one of his myriad cats, but a body part of his own — one that should not have been so awake and aware.

 _A dream._  Fragrant, swarthy skin, and a teasing, husky voice. He was only remembering, and already his back was arching, his legs turning outward. The head of his unprovoked erection rubbed against the button placket of his thin pyjama bottoms, eliciting a weak, surprised sound.

No, no. He was still too drowsy. As his body settled back into the mattress, he could feel himself drifting off again, his vision dimming and his thoughts losing form…

But he couldn’t fully descend into slumber. His groin ached, a pulse thrumming at the base of his shaft and making his hips roll imperceptibly to its rhythm. He  _wanted_. Feverishly.

Heracles’ hand slid closer to his hip, then curved up over it and lightly cupped his crotch. Through the cotton, heat pulsed into his hand. A soft sigh and a gentle  _push_ with his hips followed, his eyelashes fluttering on flushed cheeks.  
No, he couldn’t ignore this.

Eyes still closed, he nudged the waistband down with care, popping his erection free. The light breeze that ruffled the gauzy curtains at his windows made him shiver as it caressed his exposed flesh, and he curved his hand around himself quickly. The tip of his tongue peeked out to lick at dry lips, teeth pulling on the lower one while his hand began to pump.

“Mmn…” Flickering, sepia-toned images appeared behind his eyelids, and he swore he smelled incense. A wanton, searching expression crossed his features, lips parted and neck straining as if he expected a hot mouth to cover his. Heracles whined, legs slowly scissoring on soft white sheets. And his hand kept pumping.

His motions quickened when another pair of hands joined the fantasy playing out in his mind, long, thin fingers caressing his chest with expert dexterity. The lusty roughness at his rear and the sensual grace at his front… how it should be, how it  _always_ should be. His own hand slipped under his white t-shirt and tried to emulate the hand he imagined while down below his left hand kept. Pumping. Furiously.

“Aaah—!” Teeth sinking into lower lip, he convulsed over onto his side, legs drawing up into a half-hearted foetal position. He couldn’t feel the mattress under him, he was all sensation and need and feverishly heated flesh and he’d thrown his head back and did those keening moans belong to him? A certain Turk’s name lingered on his panting tongue, but he wouldn’t say it, he wouldn’t—

But it  _was_ a certain Turk’s name that spilled out on the end of an agonised cry as his hips jerked and his erection kicked, thick fluid shooting into his friction-hot palm. His breath hissed past clenched teeth as he attempted to maintain his self-awareness through the climactic waves, head reeling and body shuddering.

Minutes passed, and Heracles’ breath evened out, and his muscles ceased their post-orgasmic twitching. He dimly thought that he ought to get up, clean himself off, but he couldn’t be bothered just yet.

And then he realised he did smell incense, and it wasn’t just his lust-hazy imagination.  
He must have lit some earlier, before laying down. A lapse in judgement, surely.  
 _Never again._

Even he didn’t believe himself.


End file.
